


Taking the First Step: Shoutarou/Philip 30  OTP Challenge

by amdnj



Category: Kamen Rider W (Double)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amdnj/pseuds/amdnj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you want to ride with the Devil?</p><p>A look inside the relationship between a hardboiled detective and a childish human database</p><p>Will take place from pre-W to Post W. See inside Chapter 1 for notes.</p><p>ON HIATUS [Though let's be honestly I update so rarely it was already on hiatus. I'm just letting you know its official]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1 - Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This may not be updated every day but I will try my best.  
> Also warning as this has a LOT of my headcanons including Philip being nonbinary and similiar things.
> 
> First chapter is more of an overview but I hope to have the future chapters be more descriptive.
> 
> So far Chapters 1-8 will be Pre-W. Day 9 will introduce Akiko. Day 9-22 will be during W. Day 23 and 24 will be pre episode 48. Day 25-30 will be post W. Chapters are not neccesarily chronological (but can be considered as long as nothing really hints otherwise) except being during a certain time frame unless noted. Chapters 1-8 will be chronological for the most part. See chapter notes for time frame as well as Chronological things.

The first time isn’t something Shoutarou ever thinks about. It was cold and raining, or maybe the water was from his tear ducts. It’s not something he’s willing to admit. The night is still to raw and fresh and filled with memories Shoutarou can’t accept. The kid with wild eyes had grabbed his hand when he looked off into the distance. His hand had been shaking, and there was something desperate for the need for human contact. After the violent show of power –

The roar of repressed anger and power still echoes in his head. Rage confusion. _I WANT TO BE FREE. Who am I? What is this? It’s too much. MAKE IT STOP._ A Feeling of rage and loneliness. _Why did you do this to me? No. Who am I? What am I?_ A loss of identity. The feeling of metal and tears. All of the earth’s memories ripping through him, passing through him. Green and every color of the rainbow but most importantly green. They are the earth. They? He? Where does he end? Where does the other end—

Shoutarou can still feel himself getting sick at the memory.

Does that even count as holding hands? The wild kid’s wet fingers, it definitely had to be raining, laced with his own. A gentle tug, as the kid looks at him. Lead us. Show me the way. Partner. A silent nod. They’d been one not too long ago. What was this connection? They didn’t even need words. So in silence, Shoutarou squeezed the hand back. To who was the gesture more comforting. Neither of them is sure to this day. It doesn’t matter, right?

The second time, it’s Shoutarou who grabs the other’s hand. It’s loud and there are so many people, and Philip is still in the white lab outfit. It makes him look even crazier, especially with the binder clip in his hair. Philip’s face is in what Shoutarou can only describe as Culture shock, but is it when the kid has seen nothing but the lab? It’s too loud and noisy. There are too many people, and the other’s face is too pale.

Shoutarou’s fingers are the nicest sensation in the world. It’s something Philip decides that day. Nicer than the fabric of the outfit he picks at the overcrowded Windscale store. Nicer then the feeling of the Gaia library surrounding him and filling in the cracks of identity loss with information. The way his warm fingers drag over his own ice cold hands. The way his hand nervously laces their fingers…so unsure. So “half-boiled.” There is nothing in this world that can really make Philip go from a train wreck to calm.

The second their fingers touch, the world becomes static. Everything is meaningless to him. He can face anything. It’s as if he really is the other half of him that he is missing. A key into a lock that opens up his identity for him to swim into.

Philip still isn’t sure how human he actually is, but as long as Shoutarou is here, it doesn’t matter what he is. He knows that he is Philip. Shoutarou is Shoutarou. He knows that his hand belongs in his.

The third…the fourth…the fifth…It becomes a habit from then on in. Whenever Philip is nervous, Shoutarou sense it and laces their fingers together. Whenever Shoutarou is unsure, Philip’s fingers quickly meet his.  They’ve held hands more days than Philip has been here. It’s only been a few weeks, hasn’t it?

It means almost nothing. Doesn’t it? They’ve done more intimate things, haven’t they? No one else has seen Shoutarou’s mind ripped open. No one else has been further in his heart. Shoutarou, who tries so hard to emulate Soukichi’s way of hiding his heart beneath the brim of the fedora, is unable to hide anything from Philip.

Their hands syncing up isn’t any different than their hearts beating at the same pace. It isn’t any different than their minds being poured into one mould. They are the two in one Kamen Rider aren’t they? Their hands are made for each other, and their hands together is just another way for them to become two in one.

That’s why Akiko never comments on how Philip’s hand is either on his book in intertwined with Shoutarou’s. It’s the way it’s always been. It’s the way it will always be. She doesn’t think anything of it.

Sometimes there are even moments where they do not even know they are linked. Contact with each other is so natural. So fluid.

It’s only been a few weeks, but to Hidari Shoutarou, It feels like a lifetime that Philip has been there for him. It feels as if every time Shoutarou reaches out, Philip grabs his hand and pulls him forward. Hadn’t he been drowning before him?

It’s only when one lets go…that they realize something is missing.


	2. Day 2 - Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to keep this chronologically building up from the beginning of W  
> So its not explictedly romantic yet and infact a lot of this can be read as platonic
> 
> THERE ARE MILD SPOILERLY HINTS IF YOU HAVENT FINISHED W I DONT RECOMMED READING THIS CHALLENGE HONESTLY
> 
> Pre - W

A curdling scream pierces through the late night air, and Philip’s eyes shoot open at the sound. He should be used to this by now. How many times had Shoutarou’s loud screaming woke him up in the middle of the night? Surely, since he was a heavy sleeper, the sound shouldn’t bother him like it did.

He blamed the psychic resonance of the W driver though they weren’t synced enough yet for such a thing to bother him. It had nothing to do with his feelings. It couldn’t be the sweat plastered against his skin, the tears in his eyes, or the way his breath was haggard and fearful. No it was all psychic resonance. There was no way he could be having a nightmare. A nightmare? Humans had nightmares. He wasn’t human right? And what would he even have a nightmare about? It was madness.

Then why was he so afraid of closing his eyes? Why was the blinding light of green he saw behind his eyelids enough terror to make his heart stop? Terror. Terror. The word makes him want to choke, and he again blames the connection. Even though, it’s not terror that Shoutarou feels. It’s dread and regret. He can feel the other’s emotions.

There’s enough of a connection for Philip to feel Shoutarou’s nightmares, but it would take two nightmares at once for him to wake up in such a way. But, there’s just no way. After all, it wasn’t Philip’s own scream of fear and anguish that lashed out at the silent night at the same time. No it was just Shoutarou’s. Philip couldn’t….besides….even if he was human, what would he have a nightmare about? He’s a blank slate. No memories. No family to ca—His world turns sideways, and he quickly comes on to his feet.

Luckily for Shoutarou he makes the toilet, as his anxiety leaves his lips. Tears flow from his eyes, and he tells himself it’s the obvious tears people get when they empty their stomach. It’s not tears that never left his eyes from memories and dreams that are most certainly not his.

As his heartbeat settles, Shoutarou’s footsteps can be heard across the room. Should he do something? He‘s not very good with this honestly. The whole interaction is far too emotional and human. Neither are things he understands. It’s not like he feels.

That leaves the pained feeling in his chest from the idea of his partner being subjected to the every night unexplained. They weren’t that close yet right? It wasn’t as if Philip wanted to protect the other. Ah.

Staring at the bathroom mirror, he decides that the bags under his eyes are much worse than they’ve ever been in his life. Sleep wasn’t too necessary, but recharging was needed for his overall functioning ability. And what good was he without any fuel or battery? Therefore, the Shoutarou problem had to be fixed. Not for Shoutarou’s own good – it wasn’t as if his stomach twisted at the idea of the screams and his heart dropped at the tears – but for his own. He couldn’t go on with the screams waking him up in the middle of the night.

That’s why he spent the rest of the night browsing the Gaia library on every subject possible to quell nightmares. He’d found so many things on this sort of scientific study, or home remedies….But every single option required him to go to Shoutarou.

There was a knot in his throat about the idea. Shoutarou would never want to admit that he was having nightmares? Smiling nervously, he put every book back. It had nothing to do with how Shoutarou could probably feel Philip’s nonexistent nightmares. He wondered if the other would ever call him out on it. Call him out on what again?

Wasn’t that the reason he couldn’t sleep in the library? Here even the psychic resonance couldn’t get to him. Here he couldn’t hear Shoutarou’s screams. But here he felt broken. There were books that he couldn’t touch. Books that were ripped or broken. Shards of things he couldn’t know. And he felt alone, as if he was half a person.

So, he blamed the W driver for making him so dependent on another person. It wasn’t as if he had always felt that way. It wasn’t as if being isolated made him have to acknowledge his own fears and anxiety. His own nightmares. His own humanity.

Hours are spent in the library, it could be minutes in the outside world he’s never sure, and the answer to his problem eludes him. Perhaps he should just go and speak to Shoutarou about them. Ah, it was a complicated matter and there were far too many human practices about this. He couldn’t.

So he sits against a bookshelf staring up. Had he ever thought about just what or how this place is? Ah, this was why he never spent too long here. Standing up, he was about to leave, when a dark black book caught his eyes. Why? There was nothing different about it, right? He reached out and the book glitched. A forbidden book. Ah. And yet, he grasped it with difficulty and opened it.

There was no information in it. The book was blank, and his heart sank. Unreadable? As he went to close the book, a feeling overcame him. A song. A lullaby in a sweet woman’s voice and a delicate touch. A body pressed against him...and the sense of dread relinquished. He wasn’t sure what to call it, but it was as if Philip was filled with an answer in the form of….A tear slid down his cheek.

A memory of his—the world tilted and he was thrusted out of the library as it glitched violently. A feeling of anxiety and dread and—

Shoutarou’s scream filled the air again. There was no time to think of the woman’s screams that had been in his head only moments before Shoutarou’s. There was no need to think about the unearthed surface of memories underneath what he had scratched with a blank book that spoke more to him than the library ever had. There was no time to think about how Shoutarou’s addition to his life had changed him more than his entire lifetime in the laboratory.

That’s why his feet moved on his own all the way to Shoutarou’s bedroom. The other was tossing and turning. Sweat and tears mixed on his face as his voice came out in desperate whines of fear and nervousness. What Philip felt before was stronger and it was almost too much for him. The bond was so new, and Shoutarou was conscious enough to block out his negative emotions like he always tried to do.  Every step towards the bed made his feet feel heavier and heavier...but he had to do this. He’d never sleep otherwise.

So, as Shoutarou turned towards him, he pulled the blanket down and slipped into the bed next to him. The whole concept was still foreign and nerve wrecking. He wasn’t sure where to put his hands or anything. However, as if feeling his unease…Shoutarou’s hands quickly went towards him. Philip found his face pressed gently against Shoutarou’s chest, and Shoutarou’s face nuzzled into Philip’s hair. Their legs ended up tangle into each other while Philips’ arms wrapped their way around him.

The second their skin touched, all feelings of unease dropped, but Shoutarou still seemed nervous…and he could still see the tears at his eyes. The problem was not fixed.

Without thinking, Philip parted his lips, and let a too familiar melody fill the air. Shoutarou stopped for a moment, and he could feel his smile against his scalp. As the song continued, Philip felt his own eyes go heavy, and he dozed off.

Neither of them addresses it in the morning. Neither of them admits it’s the best sleep they’ve had.

And Shoutarou never does explain to Akiko why they only have use for one bed or just how Philip ends up curled against him every night. It’s probably the W driver or something.

It has nothing to do with their ever growing bond….Right?


	3. Day 3 - Watching A Movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: What I think is a very descriptive explanation of a panic attack. Just be careful with reading it if you're prone to beign trigger by anxiety ridden things.
> 
> I was so desperate to keep this chronological that I made this happy prompt extremely depressing. Sorry
> 
> Pre-W

Popping the video in, Shoutarou sat down across from the Television. “This is called Peter Pan. It’s a kid’s movie. I thought watching some kid’s movies might….be uh...educational for you? To see about how people interact.” It wasn’t the best choice, but it was the only video he could find. Which was weird. Who the hell bought this? Why did Boss own this? Was it even his or did it belong to the boss's daughter that he’d heard about? Who knew?

Crouching over, Philip brought his fingers to his lip as he watched with wide eyes. The agreement was that he wasn’t allowed to do any lookups during the movie. He was supposed to only watch and observe. To learn about how people did things. Then again according to the synopsis this was a fictional tale about fairies and a place called Neverland where people never grew up. Shoutarou really didn’t pick the best things for trying to teach him. He did give him credit for trying in his own strange way.

Everything was fine for the most part. Philip was honestly enjoying the movie. The characters were interesting, but there was something about….there was something that made him feel uncomfortable. Something about that woman that spoke to the girl. He hadn’t paid attention to the name. He wanted to ask Shoutarou. Who is she? Why does she live with her? He didn’t understand. How could Peter Pan fly? Pixie dust? That was nonsense. This wasn’t educational at all.

“It’s a fairy tale. Some things won’t make sense, but just watch the characters okay?” Shoutarou could feel Philip’s general confusion. The deal was to watch and no questions. No look ups. He could do this right? Maybe this was a bad idea.

**I think I had a mother once.**

Philip felt his world tilt and be tugged out from under him. His stomach twisted and his hands suddenly found themselves caught in his pants, shaking. He took a few deep breaths as he found tears in his eyes. His face turned pink as he felt it suddenly get far too hot in here. It was a feeling like every ounce of his skin was on fire. Mother. Mother. I had a mother once. What was a mother?

_Smiling, he looked up at woman with a kind smile. “Ma I picked you a flower.” She laughed and took the dandelion from him._

That was a weed not a flower. Who was this woman? What was this memory? He wanted to toss his stomach all over the floor and hopefully with it this feeling of incompleteness and unease. Clenching his teeth, he felt his head twist and his eyes had trouble focusing on the screen.

**What was she like?**

_“Ma!?” A screaming voice. A flash of green and a desperate tug of feelings. Remember. Remember. He had to remember. Her face. His father. His family._

**I forget.**

His eyes shot wide open and he rose to his feet. Nearly stumbling over to his side, Philip shifted his weight onto his arm on the edge of the couch. Family. Family. Did he have a family? There were memories. Of something. He knew it was there. It had to be. He closed his eyes, and ignored Shoutarou. In his own memory. Not even the Gaia Library. It was in his head. There was more to his memory than the Gaia Library. He knew there was. A woman. A man. Two other girls. And him. There was a family. But who were they? He couldn’t remember their voices or their faces. It was like they’d been cut out. As he reached out towards the memories, they burned like old films set aflame in front of him.

“NO!” He yelled as his eyes opened wide. Tears streamed down his face. “No. No!” Stumbling further, Philip scrambled back to his feet, and shook off Shoutarou’s hand from his shoulder. It felt as if his whole world was burning in front of him. If those memories could be taken from him…could Shoutarou. Would his memory be wiped again? Was it wiped?

_“But he’s your son!” A desperate faceless, nameless voice called out. “My son died and gave birth to the future. He is a shell. A chosen prophet for humanity. He doesn’t need to have those memories anymore. They hinder him.” Panic settling in. Betrayal. These are mine. Mine. Fear. I am a monster. Not human? Memories. Mine. Don’t take. Dread. Tears. The feeling of the ground tearing up his knees as he tries to run away._

Desperately, he lets out a cry as he makes it into the area Shoutarou gave him with the white boards. The deal was no Gaia Lookups, but this is far too important. Shoutarou will understand. He has to stop it. These are his. Family. Family. HIS FAMILY. HIS MEMORIES. THEY ARE NOT YOURS. GIVE THEM BACK. Is he human? Or is he something else that a human died to give birth too? What is he? The world feels wrong and his own skin feels like its suffocating him.

It takes him twice as long to connect to the Gaia library, and it’s hard to focus on keyboards to sort when his own mind is screaming in desperation at him. He searches every keyboard he can till he finds a book. There’s no name on the cover, and it feels…wrong. The bookshelves shake, and when he grabs the book, everything glitches. Philip screams as the book shocks him, and flings itself away from him. All the bookshelves start frantically moving on their own. Nothing will listen to him. His place. His place of solitude goes against him. Philip screams and his confusion and helplessness flows from his lips all over the whiteboard.

It was suppose to be a simple introduction to how people worked. Television, movies, and that sort of thing. Wasn’t that how people from other cultures learned languages and all of that? Shoutarou hadn’t done anything wrong right? All he wanted to do was show him some dumb kids’ movie. It was Peter Pan. Who freaks out over Peter Pan?

“Philip….?” Shoutarou knocked on the door lightly. There was no response, though Shoutarou could swear he heard Philip toss his lunch. He swore he could feel it. Or was that him just….? No. Shoutarou was told he was horrible at reading the atmosphere. There was no way he could feel the way Philip was broken. He could feel Philip’s heartbeat. His fear. His anxiety without any explanation. “Please open the door. Come on-“

Shoutarou nearly fell forward as Philip stared at him with wide puffy red eyes. His stomach dropped. What would this be like without the belt? He could practically hear Philip’s distress. His own heartbeat was fast without any explanation. Philip hadn’t been here long enough for him to be so distressed, but Philip never did freak out like this.

Which was why Shoutarou looked blankly forward as Philip smashed his face against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. “Don’t leave me. Don’t let me forget you. What am I, Shoutarou? You say I am human, but am I? Who am I? If I am human, I have a...” Philip gagged, practically on the verge of hysterically crying. His words started slurring together, and Shoutarou had never felt so wrong in his entire life. Everything was…..carefully he wrapped his arms around Philip, rubbing his back awkwardly. “Philip…..”

“You’re Philip.” Shoutarou didn’t understand what the hell was going on. The other was crying and screaming, and he could feel but couldn’t understand. They were two halves of- He still wasn’t sure what this was, but he knew…he knew. “You’re human. You’re really good at helping me out. And most important…I know for a fact…that what you are is...My partner.”

“…Partner…” Philip mumbled, wiping his eyes, slightly embarrassed at the outburst. There was something about being in Shoutarou’s embrace that seemed to ease him. Shoutarou wasn’t like….his form stiffened at the memory, and he decided it was better to just ignore it. Shoutarou wouldn’t leave him. He was a constant. He wouldn’t forget him.

As long as Shoutarou knew what he was…maybe it was okay that he didn’t.


	4. Day 4 - Going on a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm completely incapable of writing happy w fic
> 
> Pre-W
> 
> Day 5 comes immediately after this.

There was nothing out of the ordinary. It was unusually nice outside, and there was a new café that had opened up that sold all sorts of sweets. Shoutarou wasn’t really one for sweets, but Philip seemed fascinated to try it out. Once Shoutarou had talked him down to only trying out a few things as he wasn’t made out of money sadly, they’d headed out to the café in the middle of Fuuto. As they left the agency, Shoutarou looked at the corner of his eye to see Philip smiling contently. His heart fluttered. The boy had seemed more alive than he had the entire time he’d know him. He found himself smiling to himself just thinking about that.

Maybe this was how it was meant to be. The two of them together. One Detective. One Kamen Rider.

Tossing the helmet to Philip, he climbs onto the motorcycle, and Philips hands are wrapped around him the way they always are. This feels far too normal for him now. How long has Philip been here? How is it that the other has become such a normal part of his life that they seem to know exactly how to fill in the other’s presence? He supposes it doesn’t matter.

The wind flies through Philip, and he’s tempted to throw his arms out like that one time they rode together. It had nearly ended up with Philip falling, and Shoutarou was upset. He knows better, and besides, his arms are better around the other. He finds himself smiling against Shoutarou’s back. His cloak flows behind him, and there is nothing better than this moment between them. It’s the closest they are together besides the night time. It’s the only time Philip can be this close without...he’s not sure. He’s still trying to figure out this human thing, and there are so many rules and things he cannot understand why he cannot do. He just knows that he’s not allowed to be this close without reason. Shoutarou seems so nervous if he tries to get closer.

They arrive at the café, and Philip puts his musing off to the side. There will be plenty of time to think about it in private. Now was the time where he got to spend time with Shoutarou. It wasn’t worth wasting his thought process on that. He wanted to watch the way Shoutarou expressed himself from his facial expressions to his body language. He wanted to observe every detail of his partner. He wanted to feel his essence. Was it strange that it was only moments like this that he felt complete?

Sitting down at the table, Philip’s eyes quickly darted around every ounce of the scenery. It was beautiful here, and he wanted to make sure he noted the surrounding before he remained only focused on the main event. Shoutarou meanwhile was fidgeting with his tie as the waitress approached them. She was cute though not his type. But what was his type anymore? Regardless, it wasn’t her that made him nervous; it was the smirk that came across her face as she looked from Philip to Shoutarou.

“What can I get you two today? Hm.” She tapped the pen to her lips, giggling like a school girl, and suddenly, Shoutarou felt his hands sweat as if he’d been caught red-handed. He didn’t understand. There was nothing to cause him to- “We do have a special today I’m sure the two of you would love!” She handed them the menus, and flipped one open to a page titled ‘Sweet Sugar Love: Ice Cream Sundae for two.’ Shoutarou felt his stomach twist and drop and explode into a hundred screaming butterflies. His face grew hot and yet blanched and his hands that had been sweating before were practically drowning the table.

“Oh no we aren’t a-“He started his eyes going over to Philip. The name of the ice cream had completely gone over Philip’s head. It made the situation worse. Philip didn’t even know what love was. What a relationship was. Did he even know about the birds and the bees? How old was he even? The baby fat on his face hinted at him being too young for Shoutarou. Too young for what? Oh god. Wasn’t he Shoutarou’s charge? Didn’t boss tell him to watch him? Not to…Not to. He felt his face grow hotter, and tears found their way in his eyes. He fucked up. He fucked up. Philip was pure, and he was disgusting to have even thought about Philip as…the dreams he’d had came back to hit him right at this moment. How could he?

“Let’s get this Shoutarou!” He pointed to the ice cream, and the Waitress smiled leaving before even catching Shoutarou’s expression. Philip’s grin dropped as the other’s face was…..distraught. “…Did I do something wrong? Ah, it was too expensive…we can cancel it if you’d-“

“No! It’s fine. It’s just uh….allergies…Yeah. They make my eyes all teary and my head hurts. Don’t worry about it.” Shoutarou tried to reassure him, but he knew the other could feel his feelings through their connection. Wasn’t that even worse? Their connection...it was like a connection of lovers. He suddenly felt as if he had been so intrusive. Here was a boy learning how to live again and Shoutarou was….

“Ah…I see. That is unfortunate. But I am glad I did not upset you. You are…important.” He smiled, not sure if that was the right word. There was something about Shoutarou that was off, but he couldn’t decipher it. There was too much that he didn’t know. Far too much and it scared him in a sense. What if he really had done something wrong, but the other didn’t tell him? What if the other considering him…a pest? A chore left to him by his boss. What if Shoutarou was only humoring him?

“…You too…” Shoutarou replied quietly, and he could feel some sort of turmoil from Philip. The other was still too much of mystery to understand what was wrong. He’d fucked up somehow. Maybe Philip understood that he…and maybe he was….maybe he didn’t… Shoutarou felt sick.

“And here you go guys~!” The waitress placed down the ice cream completely misreading the atmosphere before skipping off.

“…The ice cream looks delicious…” Philip commented but his mind was occupied about trying to figure out what Shoutarou thought of him. Still, he did his best to put that on the side and focus on sharing the ice cream with his…partner.

The ice cream wasn’t as sweet as it was supposed to be.

And the ride home was far too miserable…tainted by the miscommunication and questions in the air.

Just what were they?


	5. Day 5 - Kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre W. Takes place immediately after Day 4
> 
> Warnings for Alcohol use. As well as Shoutarou struggling with whether or not Philip is an adult.

The dark has never seemed so lonely. He’s never felt so…empty. It’s a strange feeling. How long had he spent sleeping on the floor not caring if they didn’t check up on him on days? How long did he honestly not care if anyone ever spoke to him again? And now he was practically a small child crying for attention. Shoutarou was acting so stranger after that apparent onset of allergies, and there was something about it that broke Philip. There was something he didn’t understand about the situation, and it made it worse. Why was Shoutarou avoiding him? Allergies? The apparently cold he didn’t want Philip to catch. His symptoms didn’t even match cold symptoms. Philip wasn’t that easy to fool. What had he done wrong for Shoutarou to not want to share the bed with him? It was their unspoken routine. Shoutarou would crawl in first, and Philip would follow hours after. Shoutarou would wake first. They would never speak of it.

Why? Why was it such an issue? Why was it that every time Philip mentioned it, Shoutarou would cringe and talk around it? Why was Philip so scared to bring it up again? Was that what this was? Fear? Anxiety? Burying his face into the pillow, Philip tries to wrap an arm around a mass of blankets that still have Shoutarou’s scent on them.

There was some sounds coming from the living room, but they were just Shoutarou talking in his sleep like he always did. Right? Philip was a light sleeper, but he’d grown used to Shoutarou’s habits.

“I’m sorry! Plea—“Shoutarou covered his mouth to stop him from screaming. He tried to close his eyes to stop his heart from pounding so fast and try to stop the sweat from pouring down the sides of his face.

 _How could you? He’s just a child. You’re taking advantage of him. I trusted you. You don’t deserve that hat…_ A disappointed look poured through him, and Shoutarou felt his anxiety rebel against the lining of his stomach.

Sitting up, his eyes dare to trace over the doorway to their room. His room? Philip’s room? Sleeping together was so damn problematic. He’d had that dream where Philip-

_Delicate fingers and pretty lips. “Do you have the courage to ride with the devil? Or rather….ride the devil…?” A playful smirk and delicate lips. The way his tongue curls over-_

No. No. No. No. Stop. The sheer disgust and shame over everything should be enough to kill the problem, but it’s still ever prevalent between his legs. He wants to cry. This is wrong. He can’t even share the bed with Philip because of these dreams. Philip had joined him in a show of compassion to help him with his nightmares. Granted, it had been worded more so for Philip’s own good, but he knew what Philip had meant. And here he went twisting and destroying it. Every time he tried to do anything, he just fucked it up. Looking at the hats on the wall, Shoutarou felt the negativity rise back to the top of his throat, and he pushed his face against the cushions. He was never going to sleep at this rate.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Shoutarou saw the cabinet where boss kept his liquor. It was only touched a few times a year when Shoutarou was kicked out of the agency for the night. Alcohol always seemed to calm the boss down on those days where he was edgy. Maybe it would help him too? Or at the very least he’d drink till he passed out. Or something…His heart felt like it was going to explode.

Dragging himself over to the chair, he took out a bottle without reading the label and popped open the lid. Was this a good idea? Probably not…but when was the last time since the dreams started that he’d gotten more than a few hours. And it wasn’t getting any better, and Philip was asking questions.

 _Delicate fingers wrapped around him. Pouty lips and a wild expression. Beautiful eyes. Just beautiful lips. He’d probably be great with his hands. The connection between them. It felt right. He felt right. They attracted each other. Shoutarou had never felt a connection or an attraction like this before._ One gulp. A deep breath. Dispel the thought. Clear the mind.

 _“Shoutarou, why did you call my name out like that in your sleep?” Confusion. Disgust. “How could you think about me like that?” Everything shattering. His heart explodes and the shards sink into the pit of his stomach. Beautiful eyes filled with distrust and tears. “Aren’t you supposed to watch over me?” Philip stepped back and the world became dark again. All alone. He’d be all alone._ Two gulps. A bigger one this time. Calm down. Calm down. Repress the thought.

 _“He’s just a child. Look at the baby fat on his face. Even if he’s close to your age, he has the mind of a child doesn’t he? I trust you. I trusted you.” Boss’s disappointed expression. The world turning on him. Everyone sneering at how disgusting he is. How could he? He’s just a child._ Three gu-Fuck it.

Shoutarou tilts the bottle nearly vertical, practically choking against the rough taste against his throat. Pressing his head against the wooden desk, he prays that he’ll just pass out. Maybe the alcohol will stop him from dreaming. He needs to stop. It isn’t right what he’s doing. It isn’t right at all. Tears start to dampen the desk, and he hates this. Philip is….he’s only been here a few months. How could he do this? How could he….how could he…? “God how could I…” Shoutarou mumbles over and over again, hiding his face amongst the tears and his arms, an attempt to shield himself from just how fucked up this situation really is

“Shoutarou…?” Philip’s sweet voice breaks the silence mixed with his not so dry sobs. Oh god, even in his drunken slumber, he was still fucking up. “Go away Philip...” He tried to mumble through his arms, but the sound was too broken much like his mental state for Philip to hear him.

“Shoutarou..?” Philip took a few more steps towards the other. Shoutarou had made quite a lot of noise. As much as he did with the nightmares. Why did Shoutarou isolate himself? Why did he smell like that? Was he crying? “I don’t understand. Why are you upset?” Philip called out. He was his partner. Right? He was supposed to care for him. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t understand this human thing. No matter how many books he read. No matter how much he tried to research it. Nothing was enough. Shoutarou was too enigmatic. It was too difficult.

“Go away…Philip...” Shoutarou swatted at him. ‘I don’t understand’ echoed in his head over and over again. Philip was just a child, and he was playing this sort of fucked up game involving him. He was sending the boy mixed signals he could barely even interpret. What gave him the right? A child…

“Shoutarou. Please explain. We are partners…” Philip tried to coax him out, and pushed his hands away from his face. “I don’t understand. I’m still learning this human thing. I need your help.” Calling out to him, his eyes shone with concern and desperation.

“I’m horrible Philip…” Shoutarou looked up, and he saw two images side by side. One was a child looking for guidance, and the other was his partner looking for him. Were they different? Were they the same?

“No you aren’t...” Drawing closer, Philip could smell that awful scent even worse from Shoutarou. The air was mixed with that and tears and words that haven’t been spoken. He was so desperate to understand.

“All I want to do...All I want to do…” He closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his lips against Philips. They were soft like in his dreams, but the lack of response he got brought him to reality. The solidness of them brought him back into reality.

That was actually Philip. The world burned around him, and he tried to stand up and make sense of the mess he just caused. “PHILIP!” He called out, while desperately grabbing onto the chair. “OH GOD. I’M SORRY. PHILIP.” He nearly stumbled, his voice getting more and more hysterical. “I’M SORRY.”

Touching his lips, Philip stared in confusion. “…Shoutarou…” The tone of his voice was kiln to the fire burning him whole. He had royally fucked up. There was no going back now. There was no going back. “Please forget that happened. It was an accident...I uhm…I slipped…” He seemed to suddenly sober up. Touching the boss’s liquor cabinet was a big mistake. A very big mistake.

He’d felt lightning. A shock? A sense of something he couldn’t understand. He felt his face grow red, and his stomach toss up into thousand of butterflies. Then as Shoutarou said it was an accident, he felt all the butterflies fall to the ground, smashing his stomach into waves of unease. He doesn’t understand any of this, and Shoutarou isn’t helping. Why won’t he…?

And just as he thinks that, Shoutarou passes out on the spot, eyes fluttering close, and Philip finds that his fear and anxiety jump from his lips into the air forming the word before he can think it. “SHOUTAROU!” Somehow, he is able to stop his body from hitting the table, and he wants to do a lookup to see if he is okay. Yet, he doesn’t want to leave him alone.

Wait….He checks his pulse. It’s there. Maybe he’s just exhausted. Maybe he had too much to drink. Is that what this strange liquid does? Help people sleep. He tries to rationalize without the library. It’s hard but there is no other choice.

Carefully, he drags Shoutarou’s body into the bedroom, and plops him down before cuddling up close next to him. Something is wrong with Shoutarou, and he can’t figure out what. But maybe it’s a human thing and he doesn’t deserve to understand. Or maybe…it takes time.

In a sea of nervousness and anxiety, Philip’s eyes flutter closed before he falls asleep cuddled closer to Shoutarou than he ever has.

Tomorrow he’ll figure Shoutarou out. He’ll fix whatever is wrong.

Right now, he just wants to think about the warm feeling in his stomach that Shoutarou’s lips against his gave him, and the way Shoutarou’s sleeping form against his own seems to complete a part of his puzzle that he never knew existed.

 


	6. Day 6 - Wearing Eachother's Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I APOLOGIZE THAT THIS TOOK FIVE MONTHS TO WRITE HOLY SHIT

Repetition. Schedules. Order. Control.

Even when he was doing research, the world was controlled. The bookshelves were his playground. They were his home. They were always safe, a security blanket that wrapped over the wounds of missing memories and misunderstandings. As long as he was safe and wrapped in it, he couldn’t see the parts of him that hurt. Out of sight, out of mind.

The world made sense that way, even when it hurt so many times. When he’d asked the scientists about something he’d looked up or words that had hurt him, they would tell him to ignore it. A glitch in the program. He was a program. Program…not human. Right? Though Shoutarou thought otherwise. He paid attention to the words that hurt him. To the parts of him that screamed. There were no Band-Aids to cover wounds that needed stitches. Not that he’d offered to stitch up every wound on his psyche. There was some he couldn’t see after all, and Shoutarou certainly wasn’t certified to understand him. But he tried. He listened. He looked. He cared. He couldn’t immediately patch the wound, but he was there to help him rest and recover.

Shoutarou eased him more than the library seemed to. A single person. There was a word for that, but he simply couldn’t find it. The library at his disposal, but he didn’t have the right words. And Shoutarou did. There had to be a word for that. There was a word for the way his stomach set ablaze at the mention of the other. There was a word for the way the other’s smile made his whole world so much brighter. The way his hand in his made sense. But with no idea of where to start. A feeling wasn’t a thought. Not a word. Not anything that made sense.

The one that understood how to make feelings words….was the one he couldn’t ask. Not that he understood why exactly. The desperate look on Shoutarou’s face. The tone of his voice. He couldn’t understand why, but he knew it was something he wasn’t supposed to talk about. So he couldn’t ask him. He couldn’t ask Shoutarou on things to look up to understand him.

Understand. His eyes widen a finger on his lips as he turned to the white board covered in scribbles in all sorts of languages. A language all in its own. A code to stop anyone from intruding on his fun. Not that he honestly knew that he was switching from language to language. He was fluent in all of them honestly, and sometimes Shoutarou did have to correct him on which to use.

But UNDERSTAND. He had a keyword. Understand. People. Feelings. Maybe? Those seemed sort of right. Quickly, he spread his hands out, eyelids fluttering close in a frantic excitement. One step closer, he hoped at least.

Yet when the words came from his lips, he could feel the library resist him. It didn’t narrow down correctly. There were still way too many books, and he wondered what could have gone wrong. Was there not enough keywords, or maybe…his heart was too uneasy to do this properly. His fingers danced over the spines of books like the unfinished anxious thoughts and ideas that couldn’t be pieced together any easier than his peace of mind. Yet dark purple seemed to speak to him, to call out and ask to be picked up. The rest of the colours faded to dull shades of unimportance.

“To understand each other, you must walk in each other’s shoes.”

Furrowing his brow, he tried to say the words over and over in every language he could think. It made no sense. What would wear Shoutarou’s shoes do to help him understand him? Or perhaps it was a metaphor. Or an allusion to something more? Maybe he had to wear the whole outfit. Maybe to be Shoutarou, he had to wear his clothes. Wear his mannerism on his psyche like borrowed clothes that didn’t fit, but when placed on the way the fabric hung on him would make the pieces fit together correctly.

It didn’t make sense, but human interaction was still so foreign to him. Perhaps it was a fault on his side, not on the idea. He was willing to try anything once, given it wasn’t completely barbaric. And….he needed to understand his partner.

Philip was pure. Untainted. He was his partner, but he was his better half. Philip was everything he had to protect, everything he couldn’t be. Yet he was tainted. He was used, and he was taught that he wasn’t human. He was taught that he wasn’t a child, but Shoutarou knew he was. Philip was so uniformed on how the world worked. Even if he wasn’t underage….mentally, he had to be, right?

Then why did his heart have to do this to him. Tipping the brim down over his eyes, he knew this wasn’t what Boss had meant about hiding the kindness in his eyes. But he had to. He had to…protect Philip. He had to protect him from the world, and from things that he wasn’t ready for.

That definitely meant the sick and twisted feelings Shoutarou had had for him. Because Philip was….he was a child wasn’t he? Right?

Just as the world swayed, and his feelings seemed to drown him in a sea of confusion and anger and a thousand other emotions whose name would never live up to the scars they’d left on his sense of how the world should be, Philip’s voice had shattered through it all. It was clear, as it always was. No matter how lost he was, Philip’s voice was bright and loud, yet it was never too much that it turned him away. It was just what he needed.

He was just what he needed. “-Take off your clothes.”

“…W-what?” The words came from his lips startled. He’d been pulled out of his thoughts, but it wasn’t enough. The voice was heard, but he didn’t have enough of his head together to even attempt to comprehend what the other had said. He had to have heard him right.

“Shoutarou, let’s trade clothes. I was doing research and I believe that it is the quickest route to aiding our issue. Please take off your clothes.” What was so hard to understand about this? Oh, was he misinterpreting something again? He frowned, looking desperately at the other. This was all too confusing.

There was a way his stomach twisted in both disappointment and relief. Disappointment? Why would he be…? His mind halted and a horrible feeling of disgust washed and drowned everything else out. How could he have even thought that the other would even…? Philip was a child. A child. How long would his heart hurt him with what his mind knew?

“Shoutarou!” Philip called out, his face twisting into slight frustration. He hated when someone didn’t pay attention to him. After all, he knew all. Why would anyone ignore him? Especially Shoutarou…Shoutarou who gave him the only attention he wanted. The attention that made him human. It was if he didn’t feel real unless Shoutarou looked at him. Wasn’t all existence something that only existed when observed?

“Honestly,” He mumbled trying to change a mood he didn’t understand. Wasn’t that such a human thing to do? To mask things one didn’t understand with something else? To try to cover ghosts with sheets as if it was possible to pretend the ghost was the object over it, As if it made it make sense. Did that make him human? Or was casting the trait or even adopting the trait merely a way to do the same to the existence of his humanity? “You should pay more attention. Your spacing out is so soft-boiled” His tone seemed fake, and honestly it was. It was him trying to fake a humanness that he wasn’t sure he had.

There was a way that Philip’s eyes clouded that made his stomach twist, and yet it wasn’t his stomach but an echo of unease mixed in with his own confusion at the situation. “Philip I don’t think that’s how the…” He stood up quickly as Philip had already begun to drop his clothing. Eyes widened he gaped at the somehow elegant way the clothes dropped from his delicate form. It wasn’t meant to be a show, and he was certainly not supposed to be watching; he found himself fixated on every movement until Philip was down to a pair of underwear he was pretty sure was not Philip’s. Actually, did Philip even own his own underwear…?

“Shoutarou!” Philip’s voice cuts him out of his thoughts again. There is an unsure and yet impatient look to his eyes. Somehow, that remains the most fascinating part of him even when he is unclothed. Before he can respond, he find’s Philip’s hands on his clothes unbutton ever button without even hesitating. Shoutarou finds that he is unable to move as he watches the look on Philip’s face read clear with determination. Never in his wildest dreams – That is a lie as he’s had many dreams where the devilish partner would strip him – would he ever think this would happen. It takes him a moment to calm the butterflies in his stomach and the way the blood is rushing to every place it shouldn’t. SHIT. He does his best, eyes closed to think of anything to stop this from happening. Would Philip even question it? Probably not. Why did he have to have these fucking feelings?

“Shoutarou.” Philip pouted throwing the clothes at him. “Put these on quickly. It seems our miscommunication is worse than I thought. If we perform this ritual, it will fix the issues we have been having.” There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, and Shoutarou can’t help but to wonder how much he hasn’t noticed as he’s been too distracted by his own fears and worries. Was he focusing too much on trying to not have romantic feelings that he’d completely shut out Philip’s probably platonic ones?

Shoutarou’s clothes were definitely not made for him in the slightest. The material of the button up shirt felt nice on his fingers, and if it weren’t for the sheer amount of buttons, he would consider stealing his shirt more often. However, the buttons were too time-consuming for his liking. The shirt smelled like the cologne Shoutarou thought was nice, and a whole different sort of smell that no matter how hard he searched his brain could only be describe as Shoutarou. The pants were a bit too short at the bottom, and the shoes that he’d somehow managed to switch just barely fit him. Fixing the tie, he looked over at his partner who’d managed to slip on his clothes without effort. The scene looked comical to him, and he tried to figure out just what this accomplished. Perhaps he was foolish to think such a strange saying would fix it. Perhaps he should have just asked Shoutarou outright what was wrong. But...how did he word it? Why do you seem so unsettled with me? Is there something wrong? Is the fact that I’m not human bothering you? Didn’t you say that I was your partner? Why are you avoiding me?

Why did nothing he tried work? He found his hands bunched up in what his mind recalled as Shoutarou’s favorite tie. His eyes wet with tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Had he ever? A part of his mind lurched at this feeling of being wrong. Being broken. Of failing and tears. Shoutarou must have found him a burden. A tool that tried too hard to be something he couldn’t. Was he just humoring him to get what he needed from him? Or was he merely taking care of him out of obligation of the man who’d died saving him?

What was wrong?

And just as Shoutarou had opened his mouth to ask him something, he realized that he had not completed the trade. “Ah.” He reached forward and grabbed his hat. The way Shoutarou nearly threw himself back startled him, but he was sure it was just from surprise. His movement had been so sudden after all.

The sound that left Shoutarou’s mouth had startled even him. The hat had been quickly grabbed before it even hit Philip’s head. “That’s my favorite hat!” He tried to protest. It wasn’t as if that was a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth. The feeling of wearing it was too new. Too raw. And to see a kid who had no reason to hide his eyes, a kid he had to protect and prevent from ever being hurt about to put the hat on. He understood what the boss had meant in that moment. He understood the reason why he wasn’t allowed to wear the hat before.

Philip’s innocence had to be protected. Even if it meant bearing all the sin of the world and cruelty. Even if it meant ignoring his own heart.

“But Shoutarou! If you don’t let me wear it, we will never understand each other. We will never be real partners.” His voice suddenly became hoarse, his eyes teary. A sense of fear, of abandonment had begun to drown him and the words suddenly stopped working, blocking out by his mind telling him that Shoutarou would leave him just like the family who must have seen no use for him. “You’ll grow frustrated with me and leave me! You’ll abandon me.”

The hat had nearly fallen from his fingers like the sudden realization and dropped in front of him. The hurt look in his eyes cut through him. He’d been focusing so much on all of this. His own feelings had drowned him and pulled a sheet of confusion and self-hatred that had blocked out Philip’s cries for aid and help. He’d been so busy trying to protect him that he hadn’t noticed….Philip wasn’t as put together as he thought. Philip was….so much more human. So much more cracked and needy.

His stomach twists, and a sea of guilt hit him. It takes the feelings of unease and multiplies it until it’s ablaze on his skin burning every ounce of him with regret. Perhaps the child wasn’t a child after all. But an adult who just hadn’t known the rules. Maybe he needed the hat more than Shoutarou did to hide the pain the world had cast upon him. What did that make him? Between them, was he the child trying to play adult? Or were they both….but no he had to protect him. Wasn’t that what boss left him to do?

“Philip” He mumbled gently, placing his hat on his head. A gesture that Philip couldn’t possibly understand the importance behind. That Philip wasn’t a child to him. He wasn’t a….charge.

How could he be so stupid? Philip was never….never those things. Philip was his partner. His other half. Philip was his partner, and it was hard for him. All he saw when he looked at Philip was a child. Confused. A confused child who needed him. But he wasn’t? Right.

“Hm, Shoutarou?” Philip looked up at him, a small smile on his face. He couldn’t really place it but things felt…better. He felt like Shoutarou was opening up to him. It was as if the hat was the key that unlocked part of the door that hid the feelings that Shoutarou had kept hidden from him. There were still many locks, but he was a step closer. He was rather impatient, but….with Shoutarou, he would wait as long as he needed.

“Ah…nothing. I’m just glad we’re partners. I’m sorry I haven’t been talking to you about things…It’s complicated, but I’m not gonna avoid you. I’m not gonna…” Shoutarou gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher just yet, but… “Leave you. We’re here for each other. Right?”

And even if he couldn’t fully understand the feelings of unease in his partner just yet, all he needed was the words that proved that Shoutarou wouldn’t abandon him. That Philip wasn’t just some program. That Philip was human and important.

“Shoutarou…..Thank you.” He wrapped his arms tight around the other, a gesture he’d seen before to describe gratitude. It was one that he wasn’t so sure on how to use and wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. Though from how fast his partner’s heart was beating, it was working right. He looked up through his teary eyes, which made no sense tears weren’t for happiness, and saw Shoutarou surprised smile.

As long as Shoutarou stayed with him, it didn’t matter how long it took to understand him.

They were partners.

He’d spend a lifetime for him. 

 

 


	7. Day 7 - Cosplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever. I'm not good with writing things that aren't angst.

Their relationship still was not where he wanted it. Where was it honestly in the first place? He still was not sure what he was to Shoutarou. There were still moments of hesitation in Shoutarou with certain things. The Gaia library was not very helpful with that either. Every one of Shoutarou’s books gave back half-boiled reasoning. It was not as if the Gaia Library had everything, much to his displeasure. Even still if it did, it did not come with some sort of decoder to rip out the emotion laced thoughts to something more rational.

That was most likely while Shoutarou was the other half of him, wasn’t it? He was all logic and no emotion. All rational and no sense of humanity. Shoutarou was simply too human. Too much emotion and irrationality.

Sometimes he thought he was Shoutarou’s ideal of ‘hard-boiled’ and he did not understand it at all. Why would you want that? To hide your emotions. To have none? Yet at the same time. It made life easier. It made it make so much more sense.

Hidari Shoutarou. The man…the boy that makes his life so fascinating and complex and make him so frustrated at the same time.

Sighing, he leaned against the board trying to come up with something. He needed to understand Shoutarou better. He needs an activity for them to do to understand each other. Something to bring down his defenses and make the setting so informal that Philip’s lack of human understanding did not make the whole scenario so damn awkward and uncomfortable.

For a moment, he did not want to be Philip. He did not want to be the kid with no past. The thing that was the remnants of a promise to a man that was Shoutarou's lifeblood. For a moment, he wanted Shoutarou’s defenses down. He wanted him to stop focusing on hiding his emotions. On hiding the soft parts that would possibly fill the voids in Philip’s understanding of the other.

Therefore, he stepped into the library trying to sort through every word that he could think of. A search engine was fairly bad without the human behind it to search. Without Shoutarou, he was not very good at narrowing down. He did not have the patience to look through all the books that were not narrowing down past enough to get to understand the other. If there was a guaranteed possibility, Philip would be more than up for the hours it would take. However, there was a possibility that all of this would be in vain.

Philip needed something that made Shoutarou stop focusing on...them while still focusing on them. Was such an activity even possible? It also could not look like Philip was trying to weasel his way past the other’s defenses. It would backfire if he even tried that.

A word came up.

Cosplay: The act of wearing the clothes of another character of style and pretending to be that.

It looked like fun honestly. It was almost reminiscent of the activity they had just done. Wearing each other’s clothes. Perhaps….he could find the most common outfit and they could wear it together having fun and just being whatever the outfit was. Not having to be a boy who has lost everything and a kid who did not know who he was.

Philip just wanted Shoutarou to have fun with him. To be with him with no worries or fears or stress. He did not understand a lot of the other, but he knew that much at least.

Therefore, Philip looked up the most common outfit, and then a place where he could buy the outfits. Of course, he looked up his own measurements and Shoutarou’s. Getting the wrong sized outfit would prove disastrous after all.

This whole situation would be much more disastrous than the wrong outfit, little did he know.

As Hidari Shoutarou walked into the detective agency, groceries in tow, he found himself extremely grateful he put the groceries down before looking at the other. Actually, as he stood quickly behind the desk, he wished that he still had them in his hand.

“Philip, w-what are you wearing?!” He squeaked and the feeling of disgust and shame washed over him, replacing his blood, which had definitely started to go to the last place he wanted it right now. No, he had just fixed this problem. He had just told himself that he would not. That Philip was…..that.

However, Philip was in a maid outfit and his whole world had been yanked from underneath him because Philip looked better than any person he had ever seen in that outfit as it was perfectly fitted and tailored to his body in just the way and style that Shoutarou wanted to see him in.

Not that Shoutarou had had countless dreams about the other on his knees with the skirt just short enough to-

And the problem was definitely now worse, Congratulations Shoutarou on making the situation worse.

“It’s a maid’s outfit, Shoutarou. It’s a common outfit used in Cosplay. Cosplay is a popular activity that many people our age do, isn’t it?” Shoutarou’s behavior was weird. He could not place why the other was so…out of sorts. Why was the other so embarrassed and nervous? Why was he hiding behind the desk? A feeling of unease washed over him, it felt as if it had dragged his confidence down with it as it dripped down him. Had he messed up? Was this not the right activity?

Human interaction was far too difficult. How did anyone do this?

“Was this incorrect to suggest as a bonding activity?” Philip held up an outfit that was specifically for Shoutarou’s size with what Hidari Shoutarou would call the puppy dog look on his face. It was a look that Philip would eventually understand later would get him to do whatever he wanted. It would bend him to his will.

Hidari Shoutarou could not stand to make the other upset.

And that is how he found himself in a maid outfit across from Philip who was pouring tea for the two of them. Apparently tea parties and maid outfits was what the other had looked up as bonding activities for them.

Thankfully sitting down hid the huge problem the skirt was no hiding. The last thing Shoutarou needed was Philip asking about it. He hated himself for feeling like this over such a silly outfit. All Philip wanted to do was find something that normal people did to hang out and bond with Shoutarou. To strengthen their friendship. Though, Philip really needed to do his research better.

Philip did not understand why it took so long for the other to accept this idea. Wasn’t this average youth bonding activity? Didn’t many kids do this? Human interaction was far, far too complicated. Shoutarou needed to demonstrate more things honestly.

“You uh...know, Philip. If you wanted to do something together, you could have just asked.” He scratched his cheek, trying to attempt to scratch the blush off his cheek lightly. “I wouldn’t mind spending time with you. We could watch movies or uh...I could get a video game for us to try out or something like that. We’re partners. And I know you’re still learning all of this stuff. So don’t be afraid to ask for help from me. I’m here for you.”

Philip felt liquid stem from his eyes. How strange, didn’t people only cry when they were sad? Why was he crying now? Why was he crying when a sense of relief and joy had pooled over him?

Emotions are difficult.

“….Ah, thank you. Shoutarou.”  He said sipping from his teacup.

Hidari Shoutarou truly was his treasure. What would he do without him?


End file.
